


Potential

by adrianna_m_scovill



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Couch Sex, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Smut, Sorta Sad Sex on a Sofa, sad sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:47:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22692043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianna_m_scovill/pseuds/adrianna_m_scovill
Summary: Set in season 21 after the video chat between Barba and Benson, this takes place after he's returned to NYC.
Relationships: Rafael Barba & Olivia Benson, Rafael Barba/Olivia Benson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 171





	Potential

“Hey,” Barba said.

“Welcome back.” Her smile was small—full of warmth but tinged with sadness. “Still with the beard, huh?”

His answering smile matched hers. It was good to see her, but he could read her expression easily enough. “I already heard,” he said, pushing the door wider and stepping aside.

“I figured.” She walked into his apartment but stopped beside him to lay a hand against his arm. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He cleared his throat and looked away, pushing the door closed behind her. “How’re you doing?” he asked instead of answering.

She shook her head and offered a sadder smile. “Lot of loss lately,” she said, repeating a line that had grown even truer since the last time she’d said it.

They regarded each other in silence for several seconds, reading the lines of grief and feeling the weight of unspoken words. “I’m sorry about Tucker, Liv,” he finally said. “And Simon…” He tipped his head. His expression was soft, full of sympathy. “You deserve the family you always wanted.”

“I’m sorry about Alex,” she said, but he turned away from her and headed toward the kitchen.

“Alex made his own bed,” he answered, pulling two glasses from the cupboard. “Drink?”

“Please,” she said. He’d already begun to pour the wine. “Alex made a lot of bad decisions—”

“Bad decisions?”

“—but he was your friend.”

“Once, maybe,” Barba allowed. “Or, who knows? You can spend a lifetime thinking you know someone—”

“It’s okay to be sad, Rafael.”

He raised his gaze to hers. “Is it?” he asked, his voice a little too sharp. “He deserved to be in prison. Am I supposed to be broken up that someone put a hole in his spleen after the things he did, the people he hurt?”

“There’s no right or wrong way to feel.”

He shrugged a shoulder, walking toward her with the glasses. “The boy I knew died a long time ago,” he said. He handed her a glass and gestured toward the living room, letting her precede him to the sofa. “I don’t grieve for the man now.”

“Do you want me to pretend to believe you?” she asked as she sank onto the couch.

One side of his mouth quirked into something like a smile. “Please.” He sat beside her with a soft sigh. “You want to talk about Tucker?”

“I know there was no love lost between the two of you.”

“Neither here nor there.”

“No?”

“You loved him, Olivia.”

“Did I?”

“Of course you did. You almost married him.”

“Almost.” She took a drink, staring at the muted television. “But I didn’t commit, did I? And now…” Her expression tightened and she gave her head a little shake. “Now I guess we’ll never know,” she murmured.

“There are different kinds of love.”

“Hmm.”

“You loved him, and now he’s gone. Whether or not you wanted a future with him—”

“The last thing I said to him was that I wished we had more time.”

Barba sipped his wine, silent beside her.

“And what did he do? He made sure there wasn’t any time at all.”

“The universe dealt him a shitty hand, and he played the cards he had. I would’ve done the same thing.”

She turned her head to look at him, and he mirrored her. “I’m not blaming him.”

“No? Anger is understandable.”

“I’m not angry.”

He tipped his head. “Want me to pretend to believe you?” he asked quietly.

She sniffed and looked at her glass before taking another drink. The silence stretched between them. “There was never a future for us,” she said finally. “I loved him, but if he hadn’t gotten sick? He’d moved on, had a wife. And to be honest…”

He waited, but she didn’t finish the thought.

“You didn’t really want it until you knew it wasn’t an option anymore.”

“I push people away. I can’t blame them for leaving.”

“You can’t blame yourself for what you feel.”

“I broke his heart, Rafael. And knowing what I know now…”

“People have their hearts broken every day, but we soldier on. And he did, he fell in love again, he got married. You didn’t want the same things he wanted, but you didn’t ruin his life.”

“He offered me the world and I threw it back at him.”

“You can’t stop people from falling in love with you. It doesn’t mean you owe them anything. You wish you’d spent these last years with him what, out of pity? You think he’d want that?”

“Of course not,” she muttered, looking down into her glass. “He’d moved on,” she added, the words barely audible.

“He was a good man. He deserved to find happiness.”

“Alex was one of the best friends you ever had,” she said, but when she looked at him again he turned his face away. “But you’re not responsible for how he ended up.” She saw his throat bob as he swallowed. “You’re a good man, Rafael, you deserve the successes you’ve had. You worked hard.”

“I got lucky.”

“No. And you didn’t owe him—”

“Yes I did,” he cut in, turning his gaze back to hers. “I was supposed to save him, to save _them_.”

“You were children.”

“That was my fucking _job_ , Liv,” he said, and she heard the raw pain in his voice. “They protected me, and I was supposed to get us all out of there. And I just left them behind.”

“That’s not what happened.”

“It is. Alex is dead, Yelina is God knows where, Eddie can barely—”

“You said your mother told you to stick close to Alex, that he would be—”

“But I didn’t stick close to him, did I? Sure, he had ambition. Everyone knew he was going places, right? And he did. But it changed him.”

“And, what? You were supposed to be his Jiminy Cricket, following him through life, making sure he didn’t fall off the path your mother saw for him? He knew right from wrong, he made his own choices.”

“You don’t know what it was like.”

“Maybe not,” she allowed, “but I know you. You’re good and kind and your moral compass doesn’t waver.”

“I wish I thought I was half as good as you do.”

She was silent for long moments, sipping at her drink. “You had all the potential that everyone saw in Alex. And you took it and you worked your ass off and you made the world a better place. That’s what you did. What did Alex do?”

Barba blinked the tears from his eyes and shook his head. “He and Eddie saved my life more than once,” he said.

“Then maybe that was _his_ job. To get _you_ here, so you could fight for the people who need it.”

“I loved him, Liv,” he whispered.

“I know.”

“No,” he said. He drew a deep breath and forced his shimmering gaze to hers. “You don’t.”

“I do,” she countered softly, and she saw something relax in his expression as he studied her face. “But you didn’t deserve to be in his shadow, and it wasn’t your responsibility to be his conscience.”

“He did terrible things, Liv,” he mumbled. “I hate him for what he did, what he became.” He paused, and she watched him gathering the words onto his tongue.

She leaned forward to set her glass on the table and turned her body toward him. “It’s okay,” she said, rubbing a hand up and down his arm.

“But part of me still loves him and I don’t know what to do with that.” She could hear the raw pain in his voice, the thickness of unshed tears that he’d locked up in his throat. She could see the heartbreak shining in his eyes and she reached out automatically, pulling him into a hug.

He turned his upper body toward her, wrapping his free arm around her and burying his face into the curve of her shoulder. She ran her fingers up into his hair, holding him as his heavy breath settled hotly against her skin. The rough tickle of his beard was unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

“It’s okay,” she repeated.

“I miss what we were,” he whispered raggedly against her neck. “What we all were, back when the world was cruel but we weren’t.”

“The world never turned you cruel, Rafa,” she said, stroking his hair and rubbing his back. She could feel the wetness of his tears.

“I walked away from you, too,” he murmured, and her heart skipped a beat. “How can you still believe in me?”

“I know you,” she said. “You’re so much more than your lowest moments, I wish you could see that.”

He was silent for long moments before saying, barely audible into the curve of her neck: “When you say it, I can almost believe it.”

“Almost?” she asked with a smile.

“Some opinions carry more weight.” He drew a breath. “Your opinion…”

“Well, my opinion of you will never change,” she said.

He turned his face a little, his warm breath fanning into the V of her collar. She thought he was going to say something else, but after a moment he slowly lifted his head to look at her with watery, red-rimmed eyes. He searched her face, and he was so close that she could hear the click in his throat when he swallowed.

She slid her hand to his jaw and kissed him. She didn’t know she was going to do it until her lips were pressed against his. She felt his fingers curl into her shirt near her waist, felt his breath catch in his chest. His mouth was soft, full of yield and without a hint of resistance, but some semblance of reality hit her and she turned her lips away.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, closing her eyes. She gave her head a small shake, her hair tickling his face, and felt his puff of breath against her cheek. “I didn’t mean—”

He ducked his head to catch her lips with his. He made a small sound—or maybe that was her, she couldn’t be certain—and she felt his tongue at her lips, tasting, testing. She opened her mouth without hesitation, pressing closer—

—until she broke away with a gasp at the splash of cold liquid hitting the side of her stomach, soaking through her shirt and running down into the waistband of her slacks.

“Shit,” he said, jerking his hand away and sloshing more of his drink in the process. He slid the glass onto the table with a grimace. “Sorry. Shit.” He plucked at the side of her wet shirt, pulling it away from her skin. “I’ll get—”

She grabbed his face before he could shove himself off the sofa and kissed him again, hard. Whatever he’d been about to offer—a dry shirt, a towel, a hair dryer for all she knew—died on his tongue. He made a sound of surprise that quickly changed into something hungrier, and then his tongue was in her mouth and one hand was in her hair, the other skating over her arm before settling heavily onto her hip.

She could feel the urgency in his touch, in his kiss, but she could also feel his hesitancy. She leaned back toward the armrest, pulling him with her, trying to ignore her fear that he would draw away and say they were making a mistake. She’d spent her life pushing people away, and he knew that. She couldn’t expect him to risk his heart for her, not when it had already suffered so much damage.

He turned his mouth away, breathing heavily as he pressed his cheek to hers. “Liv,” he said.

She almost begged him not to reject her, but she knew that wasn’t fair. He was grieving, and she was taking advantage of his vulnerability. There was no excuse. “I’m sorry,” she whispered near his ear.

His breath fanned her neck. His fingers were still tangled in her hair, his other hand resting at her waist. His beard was soft against her jaw. “I’ve gotten good at leaving,” he murmured. She felt his fingers curl into the wet fabric of her shirt, holding on as he gathered his resolve. “But I can never stay away from you for long. I tried…”

“I know, it’s okay.” She put a hand against his chest, not quite pushing him away. “We’re both upset, I shouldn’t have—”

He lifted his head to look at her, and her words and breath caught. She could see the emotion shining in his eyes as he searched her face. “You push people away to protect yourself. And me, I walk away from people. But maybe it means something that we’re here, that we always end up _here_ , together.”

Her heart was slamming in her chest. His face was so close she could feel his breath. His eyes were focused on hers, missing nothing. She couldn’t hide from him, there was nowhere to go. She fisted her hand into the front of his shirt.

“It means something,” she agreed softly. She couldn’t say any more than that; the words were stuck in her throat, trapped behind a lifetime of fear.

He didn’t ask for more. His gaze slid down to her lips, and she saw—and felt—him swallow. Then his mouth was on hers, and there was no hesitation this time. She shifted beneath him, pulling him closer, running her hands down his sides to tug at the bottom of his shirt. He hummed against her lips, his fingers traveling over every inch of her he could find—her hair, her face, her neck; her arms, her hips, her thighs. He moved, shifting one leg onto the sofa as his body pressed hers into the cushions.

His lips left hers to find her neck, and she tipped her head against the armrest, shoving her hands beneath his shirt to feel the full heat of his skin against her fingertips. He sucked lightly at her throat, his beard making her skin tingle, and she pulled her hands from his shirt to fumble between their bodies for the button of his trousers.

He lifted his head, slanting his lips over hers again, claiming every bit of her mouth as she unfastened his pants and tried to push them down his hips. His hand slid up beneath her shirt until the soft mound of her breast filled his palm, and she arched her back to push herself against him.

He shifted his weight, unhooking the front of her slacks with a twist of his fingers and slipping his hand inside the silk of her panties. She gasped into his kiss, shivering as his fingers found their way into her heat, his touch gentle but confident.

She palmed him through his underwear and he groaned, breaking away from her kiss. She pushed at his briefs, trying to free him, and he lifted his hips to help.

“What do you need?” he asked.

Her body had become less predictable in recent years and she appreciated his thoughtfulness, but she was already wet, slick against his fingers. “You,” she said, pulling his head down to kiss him as she finally managed to free him from his underwear with her other hand. His erection was heavy in her hand and she stroked him as she squirmed, trying to find a better position.

His fingers were moving as though they’d known her body intimately for years instead of moments, and she was unsurprised. She couldn’t say she’d never watched his hands and wondered what they would feel like on her skin.

She wasn’t really surprised by her body’s quick reaction to his touch, either, but she didn’t want to come with his hand in her pants and her shirt soaked with wine. “Wait,” she said, turning her face away. He blinked at her, pulling his hand away, and it was all she could do to keep the frustrated moan in her throat. “Help me,” she said before he could ask what was wrong, and she levered herself up to try to get out of her wet shirt.

He shifted with her and they worked together to strip her out of her blouse and pants. He got her undressed with impressive efficiency despite the tight space, and she laughed breathlessly when he quickly pressed her back into the sofa, kissing her. He paused again for only a moment when he felt her tugging at the bottom of his shirt, and he stripped it up and over his head and tossed it aside.

Then his body was over hers and his fingers, now without any obstacles, had once more found their way between her legs. She squirmed, moaning softly into his kiss and trying to push herself against him. His pants were still around his thighs, restricting his movement, but he made no move to shuck them. All of his focus was on her. She knew that if she asked to move into the bedroom, he wouldn’t hesitate to oblige, but she didn’t want any delay.

She didn’t want to worry about responsibility or propriety or anything except the feeling of his skin against hers, their mouths locked together, their hearts beating in unison.

They moved in wordless tandem until his erection was nestled between her legs, pressed lightly against her opening, and then he paused. He kissed her for a few more seconds before lifting his head to meet her eyes.

“Liv,” he said. It wasn’t tilted as a question, but she knew he was looking for any signs of hesitance in her face.

“Rafael,” she answered, and his smile was soft as he ducked his head to brush his lips over hers. When he shifted his hips, she curled her leg around him, urging him on. There was barely any space on the sofa; her arm was partially pinned against the back cushion, and one leg was trapped beneath him, but she didn’t care. He kissed her as he entered her body, kissed her with all the tenderness that a person could manage, and that’s all that mattered.

He set a quick pace but her body met every shift and flex of his. She wrapped her arm around him, holding him close, their breaths mingling as their kiss got messier and more desperate. She could feel the pressure building, ready to consume her, she could feel the growing urgency in his movements.

He slowed when he felt her beginning to tighten and convulse around him, prolonging her orgasm until she cried out against his lips. His breaths were ragged but he was nearly silent when he came, allowing himself only the smallest of sounds.

When he collapsed against her, dropping his head to her shoulder, he breathed her name. She held onto him, letting their bodies rise and fall together. After a few moments, he said, “Are you alright? Anything going numb?”

She laughed quietly, running her fingers through his hair. “Not yet.” She felt a pang of regret when he slipped carefully from her body, but he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to shove himself off of her. She felt his lips brush her neck in a soft kiss. “Are you alright?”

“Not exactly how I imagined this,” he muttered, and she smiled at the admission that he’d thought about it.

“Me, either.” When he lifted his head to look at her, she added, “I’m not complaining.”

“Can you stay the night?” he asked quietly. There was a small spark of hope in his voice, but it was nearly buried beneath the weight of resignation. He knew the answer.

“I can’t,” she said.

His smile was small, a little sad, but genuine. “Another time,” he murmured, searching her face.

“Come home with me,” she said before she knew she was going to offer.

His eyebrows went up a bit, but he didn’t lose his smile. He tucked her hair behind her ear and sighed softly. “When I said I still loved Alex, I didn’t mean I was in love with him. Not anymore, not for a long time.”

“I know.” She hesitated, fingering absently at the curls of dark hair on his chest. “When I said I wanted more time with Tucker…I didn’t mean…”

“I know,” he said. He brushed her hair back from her forehead. “I’ll get you a dry shirt,” he said, but he made no move to get up. He didn’t seem to want to stop touching her, and she understood the feeling. “If you want a shower, or…a nap…”

“Come home with me,” she repeated with more conviction. She slid her hand up his neck to run her fingers over his beard. “I’ll drop you wherever you need to be in the morning.”

He leaned his jaw into her touch. “I have nowhere to be tomorrow,” he said quietly.

She considered for a few moments, holding his stare. “Then I’ll take a personal day.”

“You?” he asked with a chuckle. “Playing hooky?”

“After Noah goes to school, we can spend the whole day together.” She paused. “If you want.”

“Hmm,” he said, running his fingers over her cheek. “That sounds nice.”

When he didn’t say anything else, she raised her eyebrows and said, “And?”

He smiled. “And…what if I never want to leave?”

“Then you’ll have to shave the beard.”

He laughed and ducked his head, rubbing his hairy jaw against her cheek. “You don’t like it?”

“It has its charms,” she allowed, grinning as he chuckled against her neck. “And I guess, so do you.”

“There you go with the flattery again,” he teased.

“I have always been and will always be proud of you, Rafael.”

He hesitated for a moment before raising his head to kiss her lips. “If you believe in me, nothing else matters,” he breathed. “Liv, I promise that I’ll never walk away from you again.”

She framed his face with her hands and lifted her head to press her lips to his. “You can keep the beard if you want,” she said after a moment, earning herself a grin and another kiss.


End file.
